Christmas Cookies
by vulpixwrites
Summary: Christmas is strange when you're out in the field. Family is a strange thing too, sometimes. Ana and Reinhardt share Christmas night outside Detroit, and Reinhardt is a surprisingly good baker.


_Author's Note:_ _My first venture into Overwatch fanfic, and back into fandom in general. It's been a long time... I'm excited to be back, and I'm excited to be writing again. Just stretching my legs a bit... More to come later, and possibly some longer stuff. Anyway, here's some vague Ana/Reinhardt fluff from before the fall of Overwatch._

* * *

"This is as good a place as any," Ana announced, dropping her pack down beside her. Sheltered from the wind by a few large stones, it was far enough away from their target that they wouldn't have to worry about hiding as much anyway. And with the weather this cold, she really just wanted to settle in for the night and wait out the morning.

"Sounds good," Reinhardt agreed, crunching through the snow as he came up beside her. "Do you think we can spare a fire for the night?"

After a moment, she nodded. "I don't see why not. We're far enough away, and the snow will keep it from being too noticeable." Her words were muffled, coming through the thick scarf wrapped around her face. He wordlessly started digging in his bag, digging out materials and his lighter.

She didn't reply either, but opened her own pack, removing their night shelter and beginning to set it up. Through many missions together, they had an unspoken agreement on how to handle tasks. The division of labor came comfortably to them. The cold in December in Michigan wasn't anything to make light of, so at least they'd come prepared, even if they weren't carrying much.

They were just outside Detroit, planning to rendezvous with Jack, Gabe and Torbjorn the next morning. The other three had been scouting the northern side of the city, while Ana and Reinhardt took the south. The omnium was still in production, great clouds of steam rising from it's reactor. Hopefully that would be changing tomorrow.

She heard the flick of a match and saw the glow of the small flame as Reinhardt set it into the kindling. There was something soothing about it, in a sense. One small thing that never changed, that didn't advance or evolve, didn't become saturated in technology as so much else in their world was. He sat back on his heels, satisfied, as the tinder caught and began to burn.

Finishing with the shelter, she came over and joined him by the fire. Bundled up in extra layers, she tugged her scarf down a bit, revealing her nose and mouth. Reinhardt, even bulkier than usual in his own multiple layers, was digging through his bag again, having some trouble now that he'd put his mittens back on.

"Dinner?" he offered finally, tossing her a packet of pre-packaged rations.

"Chicken chunks," she read off the package. "Thanks."

"If you don't want it, I'll trade," he answered, holding out his own packet. "Cheese tortellini."

"I'll be good with the chunks. I've had it before - better the devil I know." She pulled the packet out of it's cardboard box and set it near the fire, waiting for it to heat while she shoved her hands back in her mittens.

Reinhardt had already ripped his open and was eating it cold. Within what felt like seconds, he was already spooning out the last few bits of around his own pack plus the weight of his armor was obviously wearing on him. This was wearing on all of them. The Detroit omnium was a constant source of struggle. If they finally carried it out tomorrow, it would be the culmination of months of planning, scouting, discussion, and long hours of observation. This scouting trip was just the last piece before they finally committed to the plan.

"What day is it?" he asked suddenly, looking up at her sharply.

"The 25th," she answered, leaning forward to check the temperature of her meal. The fire had really gotten going now, and she slipped her mittens off, comfortable in the warmth.

"Ah!" he grunted, whirling around to dig through his bag again. Tossing his mittens aside, he rummaged for a moment, then turned back around with a crumpled ball of tinfoil in his big hands. "Here!" he said, thrusting it towards her.

She took it carefully, pulling apart the layers of tinfoil. Inside, she found a small collection of cookies, various sizes and shapes. The smell of chocolate, almonds, and sugar drifted up to her, and she smiled, carefully selecting a sugar-covered star before handing it back to him. "Special occasion?" she asked. "Is it that Christmas holiday?"

He picked up a chocolate cookie with a few marshmallows dotted on top, smiling at her as he took a large bite. "You can't have a Christmas without some cookies," he answered through a mouthful of crumbs.

"I can't say no to a holiday that involves baked goods," she agreed, biting off one of the points of her star.

"Didn't think this is where we'd be spending the holiday," he continued, gazing off into the distance for a minute. "I wasn't thinking we'd be able to go home, but I was thinking we'd at least be able to be at headquarters."

"Wishful thinking," she teased him, juggling her cookie and her now-warm meal as she started eating her actual dinner. "You knew that wouldn't happen. That's not ever how it happens."

"A man can dream," he answered, faking defensiveness. "It figures even our little crew is split up for the night. When I was with the Crusaders, it was always a bunch of us. You could barely even find time to take a piss alone, and now here we are in the middle of nowhere."

"Things have changed," she agreed, thinking of her own military days. Given, she'd always had a slightly different experience, tucked in her sniper's nest, observing everybody else from afar. "You're not alone though," she pointed out, taking another bite of chicken.

"I am not." He looked at her for a moment, and for a second, she thought she saw something flicker across his face. Fatigue? Relief? Pain, about the Crusaders? She knew those days were a tense subject for him - even the mention of Eichenwalde pulled a reaction out of him.

With a rustle of tinfoil, he plucked another cookie from his makeshift package. "A small blessing," he continued thoughtfully. "I have never been much, without something to protect."

Ana smiled a bit, looking at the hulking man sitting across the fire from her. Nothing much, he said. But at the same time, she knew the feeling. Without her Fareeha, without her team, what good were her skills? If you have nothing to protect, then why fight? The thought of the mission tomorrow, and their hopes of destroying the omnic flared up, as an image of Fareeha, curled up at home in bed, also drifted into her mind. She couldn't think of that now.

"These are very good," she commented, changing the subject and taking another bite of her cookie. "Did you make them? I didn't know you knew how."

"When I was a boy, my mother and I used to bake every Christmas. She wanted to me to know, so it could be passed down and a Wilhelm would always know our recipes."

"You learned them well." She finished off the last of her meal and set it aside so she could focus on the last bite of her cookie, enjoying the flakey, buttery taste of the sugar cookie and the crunch of the yellow sugar between her teeth.

"Thank you," he responded politely. "I'm glad you like them." He leaned forward to prod the fire with a longer stick, adjusting the embers, avoiding looking at her. "It's good to have someone to share them with again."

"I appreciate it," she said softly, noticing his stiff behavior. "My family never celebrated Christmas, but it seems like it's such a joyful holiday. I hope someday Fareeha can experience at least that much of it."

"That's why we fight." He turned off to the distance, looking at the battered skyline of Detroit, the plume of steam rising from the omnium. Her gaze joined his, and their thoughts both turned to their mission. Ana's mind moved over all the pieces of the plan, the careful plotting they'd done, the contingency plans, the positioning.

To take down the omnium, just the five of them, seemed impossible. But they'd done the impossible before. That's why people turned to them. That's why they were there, why they were chosen. And tomorrow, the impossible would happen again.

"Thank you for sharing them with me," she finally said, breaking the silence and snapping both of their attentions back to the present moment. She looked towards their shelter, thinking about the early morning ahead of them. "We'd better get going to bed."

He nodded and began scooping up snow to extinguish the fire, an easy task with his large hands. "Holidays are for family," he replied. His eyes were distant when he stood up, the fire hissing beside him. "We just have a different family than most."

She didn't answer, turning over the word 'family' in her mind. She hadn't questioned the call when it had come - she had joined the strike team without a second thought. Fareeha had been two, but she hadn't hesitated - if she wanted a better world for her daughter, she couldn't leave it to other people.

She taken her convictions into her own hands and joined, and she'd met these men, these other people who felt the same as she did. People who wanted to change the world. And maybe Reinhardt was right - family was flexible, especially when things changed as quickly as they did, in the middle of this crisis.

"I'm honored to be a part of your family," she finally said, now being the one to avoid looking at him as she collected her bits of garbage from her meal, tucking them into an outside pocket on her pack. "Fareeha couldn't ask for better uncles."

Busy zipping up his pack, he looked up at her and a broad smile cracked his face. "I've always wanted to be an uncle," he told her brightly. "I didn't know I'd earned official status."

"Just don't teach her anything I wouldn't teach her," she replied dryly.

"Well, you've been talking about teaching her martial arts since practically before she could walk," Reinhardt commented flippantly. Tugging the zipper on his bag free finally, he shouldered his pack. "So I figure I'm in the clear on an awful lot of things."

"Maybe I've made a mistake," she groaned under her breath as she hefted her pack, heading for the shelter.

"Or the best decision of your life," he continued. "She'll get a nice well-rounded education."

"My poor Fareeha!" Ana muttered in Arabic as she clambered into the shelter. Her tone made it clear to Reinhardt the sort of thing she meant, though he didn't speak a word of the language.

"If it makes you feel better," he added as he joined her, his large body making the shelter feel much, much smaller, "I'll teach her about the cookies too. Someone needs to know the recipes, and there likely won't be another Wilhelm."

"Not another one like you," she teased gently, settling her pack in on her side of the shelter and zipping it shut behind them. "We get through tomorrow, and you can teach her about everything you want."

He rustled about a bit, getting settled inside his sleeping bag and making sure every part of him was sufficiently covered from the cold. Ana did the same, though she had a significantly easier time, being much smaller.

"Tomorrow, we fight." His voice came out of the darkness just as Ana was shutting her eyes, thinking he was already asleep. "For your Fareeha."

"For Fareeha," Ana responded softly. "For everyone." She hoped they would be enough, that they could stop some of the bloodshed, and keep even more people from suffering. The impossibility of it rose up again in her mind, and she pushed it aside. They had done the impossible - what was one more time?

"Merry Christmas, Ana," he rumbled, turning over to sleep.

"Merry Christmas, Reinhardt."

It was a long time before she slept.


End file.
